


Charming

by Blissymbolics



Series: Charming [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Time, M/M, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Work, sex work au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 11:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blissymbolics/pseuds/Blissymbolics
Summary: All that said, what he doesn’t do is take on bratty barely legal kids who have access to way more unmonitored cash than any young adult should.But then again, he is pretty.Obnoxiously pretty.And despite his fatigue, Roy can’t help but imagine how incredible it would be to tease out that golden hair and watch it form a halo across his sheets.





	Charming

**Author's Note:**

> "Don't let fanfiction fool you into thinking that sex is real." 
> 
> -deathoftakes on tumblr

The shrill ring of the phone interrupts him just as he’s about to pull the final corner over the edge of the mattress. With a frustrated sigh he releases the fabric, which of course causes the entire sheet to curl in on itself.

It’s almost one in the morning and he’s already had three appointments today. There’s no way Chris is calling with the expectation that he’ll take another.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Roy, I’ve got a kid here for you.”

“I swear it isn’t mine.”

“Very funny. Listen, this blond kid just showed up at the bar. He’s eighteen, barely looks it, but his ID checks out.”

Roy lets out a sigh as he slowly lowers himself onto the couch, his muscles aching in all the wrong ways.

“You know I don’t like taking anyone younger than twenty. Why not set him up with one of the younger guys?”

“He’s asking for you personally. Says he’s not interested in what you’re selling. Just wants to talk.”

Well, that certainly piques his interest. Whenever prospective clients “just want to talk,” it’s generally code for an opportunity to get paid without having to take his clothes off.

“And is he willing to pay four hundred thousand cenz for it?”

“Seems like he can afford it. He’s somewhat of a celebrity. You know about Edward Elric, right?”

That name certainly sparks some associations. A thousand articles and radio broadcasts, that name cycling through Amestris like a bad cold, traveling up from the street to the mouths of his clients: generals and privates alike, all mouthing off on both their greatest asset and most regrettable liability.

_A nuisance, a brat, a genius, a goddamn lunatic._

At long last, he may finally have the chance to meet the source of the mayhem himself.

“Yes, of course,” he replies, leaning back further into the couch.

“Well, he’s sitting in my lobby right now and says he won’t leave until I set him up with you.”

From all the rumors he’s heard, the kid is probably obstinate enough to make good on that promise.

“Did he say what kind of information he’s looking for?”

“No. He’s being stubborn. Reminds me of you. He definitely seems like an amateur at all this though, in more ways than one. I told him that all information channels run through me, but he’s having none of it. My guess is he heard a rumor somewhere and convinced himself that you’re his golden goose.”

Roy hums into the receiver, weighing the matter over.

On the one hand, many of his clients are outspoken opponents of the Fullmetal Alchemist and his unorthodox methods. He might risk losing some allies by climbing into bed with him, even if just figuratively.

But how can he pass up the opportunity to acquaint himself with one of the military’s most controversial and revered figures? The kid traverses the country on a weekly basis. Who knows what kind of information he’s picked up along the way? Getting him in his network might be worth any potential fallout.

“You know what, send him over. I doubt I have whatever he’s looking for, but maybe I can at least get him in my address book.”

“Don’t go playing with fire. This kid’s got a reputation for dragging down people who get on his nerves.”

“I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and trust that he’s smart enough to avoid making trouble for a male escort who he’s bribing for information.”

“Fair enough. Alright, I’ll verify that he’s got the cash then I’ll send him over.”

“I look forward to it.”

After hanging up the phone, he feels a twinge of regret for how quickly he shot out that decision. He probably should have told Chris to set up an appointment for tomorrow or some time later in the week, as it is getting on the late side, even for backroom meetings.

Oh well. It’s too late now.

He glances around the apartment, scanning to see if there’s anything that needs tending. Even if the kid isn’t a client per se, it’s still important to make a good impression.

Pushing himself up from the couch, he walks over to unlatch one of the large arched windows overlooking the busy street below; airing out the smell of cigarette smoke from his last visitor.

Central is finally winding down for the night. The cars in the street below are few and far between. Voices occasionally rise above the low rumble before fading back into the dull noise. He really wants to brew some coffee, but decides to hold back. Hopefully he’ll be back in his own bed within the next hour or so.

He was on the verge of walking out the door when the phone rang. Maybe he should change out of his street clothes into the more professional ensemble he was wearing earlier. No, he decides. The kid will probably find him more trustworthy if he’s dressed on a casual level.

Right in the middle of a long yawn, he hears a knock on the door: loud and demanding, just like his visitor’s reputation.

He pulls the door open and for the first time sees the face that has graced the covers of so many newspapers. He’s never seen him in color before though, and black and white certainly doesn’t do justice to his complexion. He’s certainly taller than when he first made his claim to fame, but there’s still a softness to his features that will probably linger for a few more years. His famous golden hair is tied back in a high ponytail, and his cheeks are flaming red.

“Edward,” Roy greets him with a smile.

“Roy,” he replies with a dry gruffness.

“Yeah, come on in.” He steps aside and holds the door open, choosing to ignore his rough demeanor. He’s probably just nervous. After all, Roy certainly isn’t his regular brand of informant.

Edward strides in briskly, then stops in the middle of the room as he casts his eyes towards the high ceiling. Then he starts scanning the small paintings and prints speckled around the walls, broadcasting his distaste like a critic walking into an art gallery.

“Is Roy your real name?” he asks sternly, not even bothering to turn in his direction.

“Yes,” he replies, slightly amused by the kid’s posturing.

“How am I supposed to trust you on that?”

“I suppose you can’t.” He shrugs. “But using my real name makes everything less confusing. And it’s generic enough to let me get by.”

Besides, it’s not like he has any family that he has to worry about discovering his occupation.

“Really? How many Xingese people named Roy do you think there are in Amestris?”

Roy’s lips involuntarily curve into a smile. This kid is actually trying to intimidate him. He clearly has little to no experience in information brokering, as one of the cardinal rules of the trade is that you should never be rude to people you want on your side.

He might have to give Edward a few pointers before he leaves. If he were any older, Roy would have no issue turning him away. But he’s learning. Roy certainly made some missteps early on in his career. And based on the kid’s body language, he really is adorably nervous.

“Why are you so concerned with my identity? Even if I told you my full name, it’s not like you’d recognize it.”

“You know my full name,” he says bitterly. “I wasn’t even planning on giving it, but that lady recognized me.”

Now that makes Roy smile unapologetically. It’s hilarious to think that he actually thought he could sneak in under the radar like that.

“At your age you’d have to show ID anyway.”

“I made a fake one,” he mumbles, casting his eyes to the far wall.

“Really? Can I see it?”

“No.”

“What name did you choose?”

“None of your business,” he snaps, crossing his arms and continuing to mosey around the room, scowling at everything like it personally offends him.

“Is this your apartment?”

“No, it’s my office.”

“Isn’t it expensive renting a place like this?”

“You’re the one paying for it.”

“I’m not tossing you a cenz unless you give me what I’m looking for.”

Roy sternly retracts his polite smile, his patience wearing thin. Is this kid serious? From his reputation Roy expected him to be a handful, but he figured he’d have a bit more tact where it really mattered.

“Listen, kid, why don’t we wrap up the pleasantries. Just tell me what you’re looking for, and I’ll tell you how much it’ll cost.”

“Fine,” he spits, with a hostility that is frankly alarming. “One of your clients is General Ulrich Dieter, right?”

Wow, so they are cutting straight to business.

“Sorry, due to client confidentiality I can’t confirm or deny that. But you seem to already know the answer.”

“Works for me,” he says with a shrug. “I heard a rumor from a friend out in Youswell that Dieter just convinced Research and Development to shell out some major funding for a small lab right on the eastern border. The official paperwork says they’re experimenting with cell regeneration in the interest of cancer research, but there have been reports of missing cadavers in the region, especially from Ishvalan gravesites, and I think they might be experimenting with human transmutation. What can you tell me?”

Roy gapes at him from across the room, trying to process the fast-spoken string of words that just came out of his mouth.

Is this kid serious? Does he actually think that Roy, an over-priced escort and amateur information broker can provide him with intel on an operation that the military must be guarding behind its highest security wall? If it exists that is.

General Dieter is a prissy man in his fifties who is bitterly slogging through an unhappy marriage and hates talking about work, except to complain about this colleague or that. But he’s definitely not stupid enough to divulge classified information that could get him courtmartialed for treason.

Edward is staring at him expectantly, and Roy almost feels guilty for how disappointed he’s going to be.

“Listen, I don’t know what kind of crime thrillers you like to read in your spare time, but contrary to popular mythology, my clients don’t just start spouting off state secrets the second I take my clothes off. I’m sorry, but I genuinely don’t know anything about this lab out in Youswell or any of the experiments they might be doing. I can give you snippets of information that might add up to a broader picture with the right insight, but I can’t give you a detailed manifesto on the military’s classified prerogatives. I’m sorry.”

The poor kid’s face crumples. All the posturing in his frame seems to deflate like a shredded tire. He drops his gaze down to his feet, probably in a mix of disappointment and embarrassment.

“Okay. Well, it was worth a shot.” He shoots Roy a small, sad smile, which is the first sign of friendliness he’s offered so far.

“Why don’t you give me your contact information?” Roy says, feeling some parental urge to cheer him up. “Just in case I hear anything. It might come up now that I know what to listen for.”

He doubts that it will, but getting his number can’t do any harm.

“Okay, sure.” He looks around the room and catches sight of the pen and notepad sitting by the phone. He walks over and scribbles something down, tears it off, then starts moving in Roy’s direction while fishing for something in his pocket.

“And here. For your trouble.” From his pocket he extracts a fifty thousand cenz note, handing it off to Roy with the slip of paper.

“Thank you.” Roy says, trying to decide whether or not to reject the money.

Before he can make up his mind, Edward bypasses him and starts speed walking towards the door.

“Get home safe,” Roy calls out.

“You too,” he calls back with a wave of his hand.

“Hey!” Roy shouts just before the door closes, catching Edward’s attention. “General Dieter did travel out east on Tuesday, and he’ll be there until the fourteenth. I doubt that’s helpful. You could’ve just gotten that from his secretary.”

“Thanks,” Edward says, returning his weak smile before shutting the door behind him.

Roy stands immobile in the middle of the room, crinkling the money between his fingers.

Now that he’s gone, he really regrets not sitting him down and imparting some unsolicited advice. The kid’s going to get himself in all sorts of trouble if he continues going around accusing high-ranking officials of sponsoring research in human transmutation.

A more opportunistic person could have used this situation to blackmail Edward, or even turn him over to the military for slander. And he really can’t afford to be so rude either. He may think that acting tough is the best way to get what he wants, but it’s certainly not going to do him any favors, especially as the cuteness factor wears off.

Oh well. Hopefully he’ll figure these things out for himself. Even if it turns out to be a painful lesson.

He slips the money into his wallet and the piece of paper into his address book, then goes about fixing up the rest of the apartment. He finishes making the bed, turns down the thermostat, and bundles up the dirty sheets to bring down to the laundry room.

Just as he’s about to start flicking off the lights, he hears a knock on the door: slow and timid, so different from what he heard before.

There’s only one possible candidate that crosses his mind, and sure enough, on the other side of the door he finds Edward, standing in the hall with his arms crossed and gaze downcast.

“Did you forget something?”

“No, but… um,” he stutters, his cheeks burning bright. “Four hundred an hour, right?”

Roy really should have seen this coming.

Reigning in his impulse to awkwardly laugh, he steps aside and allows him in, just so they don’t have to have this exchange in the hall.

“If you’re interested, I can send you two floors down to David. He’s ten years younger and fifty thousand cheaper.”

“Ten years? How old are you?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Holy shit, how the hell do you get away with charging four hundred an hour?”

Roy can’t even summon a glare. Instead he can’t help but smile at the mortified look that immediately spreads across Edward’s face. This kid is so rude he’s somehow cycled back around into being charming.

“Wow, sorry, that was really rude, wasn’t it?”

“A bit, yeah. David’s apartment is 309. Actually, it’s probably too late now. But I can call our manager and tell her to book you an appointment.”

Edward doesn’t immediately respond. Instead he tiptoes around the response that Roy can somehow sense coming from a mile away.

“And what if I want to hire you?”

There it is. Right on cue.

Roy takes a steadying breath and tries to rationally sort this out.

His objective side recognizes that he really shouldn’t take this kid on. He’s obviously inexperienced, and his temper and reputation would undoubtedly pose a liability. Most of his clients these days are men over thirty-five, and he’s perfectly happy staying within that age range. They're experienced, temperamental, and established enough that they rarely go out of their way to stir up trouble.

But still, despite his decade-long career of having sex on almost a daily basis, he can’t deny that guiding someone through their first sexual experience is one of his greatest turn ons. One that he hasn’t had the opportunity to indulge in for a very long time.

He used to love it back when he regularly took clients in their twenties, but unfortunately those pleasant encounters were few and far between.

Men at that age were volatile. Insecure. Obnoxious. And in the case of his clients, disgustingly rich.

He currently has about fifteen clients who he sees on a regular basis, and anyone else who wants an appointment has to go through extensive vetting. These days he’s privileged enough to actively get a choice in who he takes, and the fact that Chris has to turn away several requests every week does wonders for his reputation.

All that said, what he doesn’t do is take on bratty barely legal kids who have access to way more unmonitored cash than any young adult should.

But then again, he is pretty.

Obnoxiously pretty.

And despite his fatigue, Roy can’t help but imagine how incredible it would be to tease out that golden hair and watch it form a halo across his sheets.

“I’ll make us some coffee,” Roy sighs before flipping the lock on the door.

“Thanks,” Edward replies meekly.

Roy walks over to the small kitchen that is never actually used to cook anything. The refrigerator is little more than a glorified receptacle for champagne, and the cupboards only contain some mid-meal snacks and a couple cans of soup for the nights when he’s stuck here without dinner.

He fills up the kettle and puts it on to boil, deciding to settle for instant coffee rather than the high-quality grounds he reserves for his more high maintenance customers.

Edward has migrated over to one of the windows, where he’s awkwardly standing with his arms crossed tight while looking down at the street below.

“Come sit with me,” Roy says as he walks over to take a seat on the couch.

Edward turns and shuffles over to sit on the opposite end, as far away from Roy as possible.

Roy just smiles and shifts a bit closer.

“Do you have any experience?” he asks, almost diplomatically. It’s always a delicate question, one he tries to avoid when necessary, as it tends to spark immediate defensiveness.

“None. And yeah, I know I’m late.”

Now that just makes Roy’s heart ache.

“Eighteen isn’t late by any means,” Roy says, leaning a bit closer, but restraining himself from slipping into his instinctual seductiveness. “You’d be surprised how many clients I get in their twenties and even thirties who have no experience.”

As he hoped, Edward seems to relax a bit out of his hunched shell.

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I promise you, I’m not. Besides, I imagine it’s difficult finding people your own age to date. Although I can assure you you’re still well within the national average.”

Roy reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder, evoking a full body shudder.

But then he realizes that his reaction might be more than simple caginess, as his hand suddenly palpates a plate of hard metal beneath Edward’s coat.

Of course, how could he forget that he’s a double amputee? It just completely slipped his mind. It’s easy to forget since he keeps his automail covered in virtually all of his photographs, and even now he still hasn’t taken off his gloves.

Not that it’s an issue. He’s had clients with automail before. But sometimes it can be difficult to read their boundaries. For some, the juncture between flesh and metal is an intense erogenous zone. For others, the nerves are far too damaged to rely any pleasure. And some find any form of touch or acknowledgement triggering, and prefer to avoid the area entirely.

Roy’s not sure where Edward falls on the spectrum, but he supposes he’ll just have to read his body language and ask if necessary.

“What would you like to get out of this experience?” Roy asks, keeping his hand in place.

Edward practically snorts. “This is starting to feel like a job interview.”

“It is, technically. Although you should be the one interviewing me. What can I do to make this experience worthwhile for you?”

Edward lets out a laugh at the playful seriousness of his tone. Then he opens his mouth, fumbling for an answer, exactly like a nervous interviewee.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly planning on this. Fuck, I just want to do it with someone. And I already have four hundred thousand in my pocket. Or three-fifty now,” he laughs nervously. “You’ve obviously been doing this for a while, so I think I’ll just trust you on this. Just… I don’t know. Make it good?”

The way he phrases the last sentence as a question is positively adorable.

“I think those standards are just low enough for me to work with.”

He pulls his hand away, but not before giving the flesh part of his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“Would you like to take a shower?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

“Sorry, it’s not actually an option. I was just trying to phrase it as a polite suggestion.”

“Are you always this snarky with your customers?”

“Only when I think they like it. The bathroom’s over there on the right. The towels are clean and feel free to use anything that’s in there.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll… be right back.” He stands from the couch while keeping his eyes averted and begins walking towards the bathroom, but pauses halfway there.

“Hey, do I have to get my hair wet? It’s just that it’s cold outside and it takes forever to dry.”

Roy smiles, knowing this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Well, let’s see.” He confidently walks in Ed’s direction and cups the back of his head without permission. Then he slowly leans in to press his nose against the crown of his head, inhaling deeply.

His hair smells like the chemicals found in cheap shampoo, but it’s undeniably clean, and there’s no grease coating his scalp.

He pulls away, relishing in Edward’s renewed blush.

“Yeah, you can keep it dry,” he practically whispers, fully aware of what his voice can do to people when lowered to an intimate pitch.

“Thanks,” Edward stutters before turning away and practically bolting for the bathroom.

Roy smiles. Suddenly he doesn’t feel so tired.

Still, the kettle is starting to whistle, so he pours himself a small cup of coffee then heads into the bedroom, turning the thermostat back up along the way.

He really didn’t expect his night to go in this direction, although he’s undoubtedly less shell-shocked than Edward. First times seem to have a habit of coming out of nowhere, blindsiding and bewildering you even in the midst of things. They’re never perfect, and are always baffling from beginning to end. At least the kid will hopefully have a good story at the end of the night. One that he doesn’t have to write off as a bad memory.

Sipping his coffee, he takes a seat on the edge of the bed and waits for the sound of running water to stop. It pitters off a few minutes later, so Roy downs the last of his cup and places it on the dresser, then waits patiently for Edward to emerge.

After a few minutes of waiting he starts to get nervous. He hopes that the kid is just trying to psyche himself up and isn’t falling too deep inside his own head. Or god, what if he tried using the enema kit beneath the sink? That’d be a disaster of catastrophic proportions.

Thankfully he doesn’t have to sit with that unease for long, as Edward emerges shortly thereafter, and Roy almost laughs when he sees why it took him so long.

He actually went to the trouble of putting all of his clothes back on except for his coat and boots. Usually his clients only bother with their underwear or a towel, if even that much. But Edward took it upon himself to fully redress, even though it must have been a pain trying to pull those leather pants over damp skin.

Standing there in the doorway, his boots in one hand and his coat in the other, he looks like an awkward houseguest wondering where to put his things.

“Come sit with me,” Roy says, shifting up to sit against the headboard. “You can leave your stuff on the chair.”

Edward hesitates for a second, then obediently drapes his coat on the armchair by the door and places his boots at the base. Keeping his eyes averted, he walks over and takes a seat next to Roy, so close to the edge of the mattress that he’s practically balancing half his weight.

“Oh, here,” he reaches into the pocket of his absurdly tight pants and extracts a wade of bills that he hands off to Roy.

“Thanks,” Roy says, quickly counting the money and depositing it in the bedside drawer.

He wonders how he’s supposed to get this kid to loosen up. His nerves are like overpowered deodorant. There must be a thousand worries spinning through his head: performance anxiety, embarrassment, insecurity, even legitimate fear at the thought of letting a strange older man touch his body in intimate ways.

Roy tends to lose sight of the fact that when all is said and done, he is a prostitute. That’s the reality, regardless of what trussed up terminology people like to assign. And for many, prostitutes are untrustworthy, manipulative, dangerous. And Edward certainly seems to have a history of dolling out his trust in small doses.

“Before we start, why don’t you tell me what you want?” Roy asks carefully. “Or maybe it’s easier to say what you don’t want. Spontaneity can be fun, but for your first time, it’ll probably be less stressful if there are no surprises.”

Edward noticeably gulps.

“Um… yeah, so, I don’t think I want to do everything. I mean, I really haven’t done much with myself. And I hear it hurts the first time, but some say that just happens when you do it wrong.”

The poor kid looks like he’s ready to bolt at any second.

“Honestly, it all depends. Everyone’s body is different. Some people adjust quickly with no issue. Others really struggle with it. Some people find it painful no matter how much preparation you do. Some bleed easily, and others simply find it too invasive to be enjoyable.”

“You’re not a very good salesman.”

Roy gives a small laugh and reaches out to caress a knuckle down the sleeve of Edward’s shirt.

“How ‘bout we don’t worry about that tonight. Maybe if you’re feeling really comfortable, we can try one finger. But if I’m doing anything you don’t like, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“Do I need a safe word or anything?”

“I think any variation of no or stop will suffice.” 

That seems to help him relax a bit. God, Roy just wants to bundle him up and hold him until all the shudders of touch starvation drain away.

“I see what you’re doing,” Edward says with a crack of a smile.

“And what’s that?”

“You’re giving me a little now so I have to come back later. Classic advertising.”

Roy smiles in return. “Hey, if you want it all tonight, I’m happy to oblige. Just don’t get mad at me when you walk out of here limping.”

“You really think you’re that well endowed?”

Finally he seems to be regaining some of the confidence he displayed earlier in the evening, even if it was all a front.

“Would you like to see for yourself?” he asks playfully. Edward immediately goes stiff beneath his hand, making him worry that he went a step too far.

“That’s what I paid for, isn’t it? And I’ve already wasted a good five minutes of my hour.”

Roy smiles in relief, then stands from the bed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll start the clock now.”

His plain shirt and slacks are certainly much easier to remove than the ironed button up and fitted trousers he normally wears for these occasions. It takes no more than a few seconds to have all his clothing in a heap at his feet.

Normally he would drag this process out. Remove layers slowly, tease his guests and work them up by playing on their imagination. Get them so excited and eager with anticipation that they momentarily forget that human anatomy is actually really boring.

But he suspects that his normal seduction routine wouldn’t be welcome in this scenario. Getting naked first will hopefully put Edward more at ease. At least it’ll give him the high ground for a short while.

Edward’s face is certainly worth it. His flush immediately roars back to life as he makes a concentrated effort to avoid staring between his legs.

“Okay, so that’s how you can get away with charging four hundred an hour.”

Roy can only laugh in response. Then he crawls back onto the bed, beckoning Edward to come closer so he’s not teetering on the edge of the mattress.

“Would you like to touch me?” Roy asks coyly. As much as he likes the tease and lead up, he does want to get things moving. He suspects that once they break past the barrier of those first awkward touches, Edward will start to open up a bit more.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He freezes, his eyes darting around as he still valiantly tries to refrain from looking at his genitals.

“Fuck, this is weird,” he says quickly before reaching out to wrap his flesh hand around Roy’s soft cock, which twitches involuntarily from the contact.

Now they’ve reached an impasse. Edward can’t comfortably move his hand without lubricant, but he can’t just let go either. So instead he simply squeezes, as if he were tracking his pulse.

It’s uncoordinated, awkward, so damn funny and exactly what Roy has been missing.

He never gets to experience sex like this anymore. Nearly all of his clients were repeat customers and far from virgins when they first patronized him. They had established routines and preferences, things they expected Roy to provide on a reliable basis. Sure, he always likes to introduce some element to keep their sessions fresh, but a consequence of only taking older men and women is that he never gets to experience the raw charm of someone who has absolutely no idea what they’re doing.

And that’s what it is. Charming. As Edward starts stroking him with all the confidence of an amateur electrician poking around a circuit board, Roy finds himself getting hard from the sheer novelty.

“Hey, um,” – Edward pauses his dry strokes – “I know all your customers say this, but can you… not pretend to like it? Actually, never mind, you’re going to anyway.”

Roy reaches forward to cup his face between his hands, and has to hold back a laugh when it causes the fat in his cheeks to puff out more than expected. His mouth is shut tight, and Roy can feel heat radiating off his cheeks.

“Edward, I regularly have sex with men in their sixties who have hemorrhoids around their ass and have to load up on drugs just to get hard. I can promise you, I won’t have to fake anything about this.”

Edward lets out a short laugh, and Roy takes advantage of their position to finally lean in and kiss him. Nothing more than a press of lips for a few sweet seconds, then he pulls away. He scans Edward’s expression, looking for permission to continue.

What he sees isn’t exactly encouraging. Edward doesn’t look uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem excited either. Then it dawns on Roy that that was probably his first kiss.

He's not entirely sure why claiming this kid's first kiss somehow feels more intimate than taking his virginity.

Shrugging the thought off, he goes back in to start kissing along his jaw, which is soft and smooth without any trace of stubble. To his relief, Edward arches his neck in encouragement, so Roy gently trails his lips beneath his ear, lightly pressing and sucking, occasionally giving him a graze of teeth.

Edward bends his neck further and lets out content little sighs. While he’s distracted, Roy begins slowly running a hand up and down his flesh arm in long soothing strokes. Then he reaches down to tease at the hem of his shirt, silently asking for permission. When Edward doesn’t seem to get the message, he dips his hand beneath the fabric to caress his lower back, evoking a full body tremor.

“Is this okay?” Roy whispers against his neck.

“Yeah, it’s good. Let me…” He pulls away and reaches back to the nape of his neck to yank off his shirt and drop it to the floor.

Roy’s so glad that’s over with. He was starting to worry that the kid had more hang ups about his automail than originally thought.

Before Edward has a chance to let insecurity catch up with him, Roy reaches out to pull him in chest-to-chest. It’s not the most natural position, but he can tell that the kid is craving for touch. Sure enough, Edward practically melts against him, and even leans in further to start kissing along Roy’s neck in imitation of what he received earlier.

It’s so absurdly sweet. God, Roy wants to teach him everything. Bring him back again and again and show him all the ways to give and receive pleasure. Feel his confidence swell like a piece of fruit growing ripe, then peel back the layers to uncover all of the fantasies known and unknown hiding beneath.

Roy wedges a hand between them to rub above Edward’s navel, then lower to cup his crotch. He’s hard as a rock now and must be brutally uncomfortable in those ridiculous leather pants.

Fortunately Edward takes the hint and pulls away to unzip his fly, but the actual task of removing his pants is quite an ordeal. After wriggling and shoving them as far down his hips as he can, he lets out a frustrated groan, stands from the bed, and almost violently shoves them down his legs. At least he’s enthusiastic.

Sure enough, his cock is hard and bobbing between his legs. God, Roy had almost forgotten what a young man’s cock looks like. The skin is fresh and bright, smooth as cream, plump and inviting and fucking hell Roy wants it in his mouth so badly.

“Fuck, you have a beautiful cock,” he says uncaring how ridiculous it sounds. He’s going to make it his personal mission to funnel as much self-confidence as he can into this kid before the night is over.

“Since we’re exchanging awkward compliments, so do you.”

He climbs back onto the bed and leans in to press his lips against Roy’s, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and opening his mouth wide, probably in imitation of what he thinks kissing is supposed to be like.

_God yes, make mistakes. Be clumsy. You’re so sweet I feel guilty for indulging in you._

Roy simply follows his lead and matches the movements of his mouth, trying to keep up with his erratic pace and the shifting angles of his neck. It’s messy and uncoordinated, but so enthusiastic that Roy can’t complain.

Wrapping his arms around his back, Roy guides him to lie down with his head against the pillows, basking in the sight of his long blond hair billowing across the fabric. Then he breaks away to start kissing down the column of his neck, across his chest, evoking squirms and sounds of encouragement as he goes. He feels positively light-headed with the knowledge that no one has ever touched his skin like this. That these sensations are entirely new. Roy can give him anything, and he’ll drink it down with abandon.

Kissing and massaging as he goes, he finally reaches the head of his cock, which is lying hard against his stomach, moist at the tip and flushed a beautiful shade of red.

Roy looks up to see Edward tensed up with his eyes shut tight, his face alternating between strain and bliss, like his muscles are unsure what reaction they’re supposed to be broadcasting. Roy lowers his head to lick along the hollow of his pelvis, which causes him to squirm and rotate his hips, practically throwing his cock in Roy’s direction.

To placate him, he finally sweeps his tongue up in a long, flat arch, feeling Edward’s body crest with the path of his tongue.

“Fuck,” he chokes. When Roy looks up, he can see a beautiful fresh sheen of sweat coating his face.

“Again?” Roy teases.

“Fuck you, yes.”

Roy complies, and this time Edward lets out a long moan, the volume rising in time with the stroke of his tongue. With his hands at either side of his hips, Roy finally leans forward to enclose him in his mouth, lifting his tongue to press against the underside of the head, moulding his lips tight around his shaft, and happily drinking in the whispered curses reaching his ears.

With practiced ease he takes in most of his length, gently humming as he moves his head, oscillating his tongue while minutely altering the pressure of his mouth. Then with one hand he reaches down to rub at the base, which is slick from the saliva dripping past his lips. With his fingers and palm he mirrors the rhythm of his mouth, discreetly searching for the spots that will make him gasp.

When he burrows the tip of his cock against the velvet lining of his inner cheek, that seems to be the winning ticket. Edward lets out an indignant sound somewhere between a mewl and a keen, and when Roy raises his gaze, he can see that his eyes are shut tight, his face red and pinched from both arousal and strain.

Roy continues thrusting his cock against the welcoming softness of his cheek, tightening the grip of his hand on the upward strokes, and relaxing into a gentle caress on the way down.

“I’m– I’m there,” he gasps. From his tone, it almost sounds like he’s confused or scared by what’s happening.

Roy just continues his pace, coaxing him closer, feeling his body constrict in preparation, reveling in the agony of being trapped right on the edge, waiting for the final cord to snap.

Finally, he feels the first drops of cum hit his cheek, followed by a stronger wave. First Edward’s body seems to coil in on itself, then stretch in all directions, unsure where to channel the energy coursing out from between his legs.

Through his gasps there are short high-pitched whines, involuntary and desperate, cresting in volume as Roy feels more cum fill his mouth.

He tries to keep his head in place until he’s finished, holding him through the aftershocks as his body settles into dead weight on the mattress. Once his twitches dissipate, Roy lifts his head away and allows his lips to go slack, letting some of the cum drip down his chin.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Edward pants, which is the exact reaction Roy was hoping for.

“Sorry, just a sec,” he mumbles as he crawls forward to the bedside drawer to pull out a clean washcloth. Out of Edward’s eyesight, he presses it against his mouth and silently spits out the remainder of his cum. Then he folds the fabric to wipe the rest off his chin and neck.

“House rules. I never swallow,” he remarks while folding the cloth again and tossing it into the nearby hamper with practiced precision.

“Because of diseases and shit?” he asks, his voice lilted and placid.

“Yeah. Actually, under normal circumstances, I never let anyone come in my mouth without a condom. But you’re an exception.”

“I could’ve been lying about being a virgin,” he says with mock offense.

“Yeah, you could have, but you weren’t.”

Edward gives an indignant grunt as he reaches in Roy’s direction, a needy hand pulling him closer.

“Is there anything you’d like to do next?” Roy asks. “You still have… forty minutes left,” he says, glancing at the clock on the wall.

That’s definitely cutting it close in terms of fitting in another round. But the kid’s young. And of course Roy’s not going to heap up his bill if he keeps them in bed past his limit.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

Roy lets out a laugh as he lies back down. “I can see that you’re already a master of pillow talk.”

“Oh yeah? Is that what people in relationships do? Pawn off the choice to the other person? Like picking a restaurant?”

“I can’t exactly say I’m an expert when it comes to relationships, but it’s a default staple for sex in general.”

While talking, Roy reaches down to pull up the duvet folded at the base of the bed. Despite the warm air blasting from the radiator, it’s still barely above freezing outside, and the chill of cooling sweat is pleasant for no one.

Edward eagerly cuddles beneath the blanket like a cat getting cozy, and Roy wraps an arm around his shoulders to pull him against the heat of his chest, moulding their bodies together as best he can.

“It must be hard being in relationships when you have a job like this,” Edward mumbles as he adjusts himself.

“It’s certainly not for the insecure,” Roy replies, sticking to his standard MO of omitting the fact that he’s never in his life even attempted to sustain a long-term relationship, and he’s honestly not sure what one would actually entail.

People ask him about it all the time. They’re always curious how strong and supportive someone would have to be to accept Roy as their partner. To let him leave every night fully aware that he’ll be bringing back the scent of strangers. What mythical person would be well-adjusted enough to build a relationship with someone who offers his body in exchange for money?

Roy himself would very much like to meet that person.

“Hey, how’d you get into this anyway?” Ed asks, sounding more alert than he did near the beginning of his post-coital high.

“Why? Are you looking for a new career path?”

“Hey, I’m definitely not going to stay in the military forever. And I never finished secondary school, so my job prospects aren’t exactly rosy.”

Roy lets out an amused huff as he runs a hand up and down Edward’s arm.

“Friend of a friend got me into it,” he lies. “Virtually everyone in the business gets here through word of mouth.”

“And how long have you been doing this?”

“Just over ten years now.”

“Wow. So… this is it for you. I mean, it’s your career. Not your temporary side hustle or second life post-breakdown job.”

“Oh, it is. I just had my breakdown a bit earlier than most.”

“Yeah? So what did you do in your first life?”

Roy has the distinct feeling that he’s being interrogated.

“I was in the military. Along with every other Amestrian male aged eighteen to twenty-two.”

Edward lets out a small laugh. “No shit? I’d ask why you left, but I’m honestly more confused why people stay.”

“High talk for someone who currently has the rank of a major.”

“My rank ain’t shit. I’m basically an overpaid grad student with a worse social life. As soon as I get what I’m looking for, I’m gone.”

“And what you’re looking for, it’s related to this lab out east?”

Edward immediately stiffens against his chest, filling Roy with regret for disrupting their comfortable exchange.

“Sorry. Not my place.”

“It’s cool,” Edward replies, but his subsequent silence indicates otherwise.

Roy searches for something to say. Something to salvage the atmosphere.

“I almost took the state alchemist exam, y’know. I studied for over a year and everything.”

“Oh yeah? Why didn’t you?” he asks, clearly intrigued.

“Ishval happened. I got lucky and wasn’t deployed out there, but I had friends who were. And after seeing what they made the state alchemists do out there… I couldn’t even stay in the military after that.”

On second thought, maybe this wasn’t the best direction in which to steer the conversation.

“So naturally prostitution was your strategic back up plan?”

“Hey, I’ve done pretty well for myself. And I like it. But just you wait until I roll out the blackmail on every member of the brass I’ve slept with. I’ll be Führer before I’m forty.”

“I might join you on that front,” he laughs. “I’ve definitely got some fun gossip that might help.”

“Well then, this might be the start of a beautiful business relationship.”

“Yeah, might be.”

Suddenly, Edward jolts up, eyes wide and a look of panic on his face.

“Shit, I never got you off.”

Roy stares at him for a second, then promptly falls back laughing.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. Let me”

Before Roy can stop him, he reaches down beneath the covers to take Roy’s waning erection in a tight grip, giving a rough pull that makes Roy flinch.

“How ‘bout this,” he says while reaching down to gently remove his hand. “Let’s wait until you’re ready to go again, then we can come together. How’s that sound?”

“Disgustingly sentimental,” he replies with a sneer. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

Almost immediately, embarrassment seems to blanket his features. Roy just gives his hand a reassuring squeeze, trying to mask his own instinctive shock at the question, even if it was just a joke.

“Classic advertising,” he replies with a playful trill before drawing Edward in for a kiss.

They lie together for a while longer, chatting and touching, so warm it should be a crime. After a while, Ed turns on his side to press his hardening cock against Roy’s thigh. Then they roll against each other, thrusting and writhing like two teenagers in the backseat of a car. Sharing clumsy open-mouth kisses as Roy tries to blindly reach for the lubricant.

Once his palm is slick, he takes both of them in hand and strokes them to the end.

Normally he can come on cue with near inhuman restraint. Being able to control that aspect of his body is somewhat of a mandatory requirement for his job, as people tend to get offended when he comes too early or late for their liking.

He knows how to fast track his response cycle to match his partner. He’s also capable of mentally detaching himself so he can last as long as he needs to. But for some reason, while tangled up in this warm bundle of metal limbs and golden hair, all of the mental games and strategic commentary he normally uses to keep himself on track are nowhere to be found. Instead all he can do is continue rutting and stroking, driven by a need that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

To his dismay, he finishes before Edward, who watches him intently through hooded lids. Roy knows what his own face looks like. He’s seen it while fucking in front of a mirror enough times. But suddenly he feels self-conscious about Edward watching him. And the way he gently strokes his cheek as he loses himself evokes some type of emotion that he doesn’t even want to begin to analyze.

But it’s overwhelming. He knows that much. So fucking good. Debilitating to the point where he’s struggling to maintain his measured strokes on Edward’s cock.

“I’m close,” he pants, pressing himself flush against Roy’s body, grabbing his free hand and clenching it tight. Once again, those sweet coos are leaving his mouth on every breath. Then his muscles go rigid, and for the first time Roy really gets to see the way his brow clenches impossibly tight as his lips part wide.

When it’s over, Roy leans forward to kiss him softly and stroke his lower lip with his tongue. The room feels too bright for this kind of intimacy, even though their only light source is a single lamp on the nightstand.

He’s not even aware of drifting off after that. Just that his surroundings are impossibly warm and soft, almost pulsing with radiance.

The light is still on when he manages to painfully pry his eyes open, and the clock on the wall says it’s half past three in the morning. His ears prick up at the sound of running water in the bathroom, and when he rolls to his side, he can see that Edward’s coat and boots are missing from the chair.

He should really get up. See him out. Say goodbye. But the exhaustion is locking him down in an iron grip. It’s his own damn fault for dropping so much money on silk sheets and a plush mattress. But he needs to get up. That’s part of his job.

Get up. Get up.

When he blinks again, the room is dark. Disorientingly dark. He can’t see the hands of the clock anymore, and for a moment he can’t remember why he’s in this bed instead of the significantly less comfortable one back in his real apartment. The mattress he has at home might be less decadent, but it’s better for his back.

When he opens his eyes again, there’s a feather of light streaming through the window that leads out onto the fire escape.

Damn, he really should have invited the kid to spend the night. It’s dangerous to be walking out on the streets alone that late. Maybe he got a taxi, he thinks optimistically. Although, there’s probably no reason to worry. Based on his reputation, Edward’s obviously more than capable of watching out for himself.

He does have his number. He should probably call. Just to make sure.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I might turn this into a series. I think there's some more fun stuff to play around with!
> 
> [ twitter](https://twitter.com/blissymbolics1)


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